The Life of George George rolled out of bed at 6AM. He slept in his thermal onesies so he just pulled on this week’s Carhartt overalls. He knocked on the door to the bedroom his two teenage sons shared and someone inside answered with a sleepy, “fuck you!” Next he tapped on his daughter’s door. His daughter is fourteen and named Angela after George’s dear mother. His daughter Angela is his pride and joy. After tapping lightly a few times he heard another, “fuck you!” His next stop was the bathroom. Sometimes this was the high point of his day, however, he mostly showered, shaved and brushed his teeth on the weekends. In the kitchen he took four clean bowls out of the dishwasher he had loaded the night before and he set the bowls around the table, hoping his kids would have cereal before going to school. His daughter would be picked up by her seventeen year old boy friend at 7:45 and driven to school where she was a freshman and he was a senior. George hated the guy but he didn’t worry because he knew Angela was good about taking her pills. His sons were sixteen year old twins named Scott and Joe. They would be picked up by Steve, the guy who plays guitar in their band. They rehearse several nights a week in the basement. Other kids hang around but as far as George could tell, the band only consisted of his two sons on their matching drum kits and Steve on a telecaster. Someone screamed lyrics but he wasn’t sure who it was. George would get breakfast when the morning food truck showed up on the job site. His wife, Gloria slept in a separate room mostly because she snored like a Caterpillar bulldozer and George was familiar with that sound because he operated on of those monsters all day long! He refused to listen to it at night. Gloria could not work because she had a disability. Her disability was that she weighted over 300 pounds. As far as he knew, she spent her days eating pizza and donuts and watching tv in her bedroom. George drove his F-250 the seven miles to the work site, a few acres of mud that would eventually be a shopping center. The dumbass foreman was looking at blue prints as if he knew what he was doing. Other guys were standing around drinking coffee out of styrofoam cups. His best buddy Ray walked over to George and said, “how the hell are you?” George said, “good as gold.” Then Ray offered George a cigarette and a light. Ray knew George had stopped buying cigarettes the week before because he was trying to quit, so it was a very nice gesture. The sun was coming up and all things considered, it looked like it would be a pretty good day. 02/18/2017 © Don Lehman |